Sterling A. Brown



                     Old Lem


I talked to old Lem
and old Lem said:
            "They weight the cotton
            They store the corn
                  We only good enough
                  To work the rows;
            They run the commissary
            They keep the books
                  We gotta be grateful
                  For being cheated;
            Whippersnapper clerks
            Call us out of our name
                  We got to say mister
                  To spindling boys
            The make our figgers
            Turn somersets
            We buck in the middle
                  Say, "Thankyuh, sah."
                  They don't come by ones
                  They don't come by twos
                  But they come by tens.

            "They got the judges
            They got the lawyers
            They got the jury-rolls
            They got the law
                  They don't come by ones
            They got the sheriffs
            They got the deputies
                     They don't come by twos
            They got the shotguns
            They got the rope
                  We git the justice
                  In the end
                     And they come by tens.

            "Their fists stay closed
            Their eyes look straight
                  Our hands stay open
                  Our eyes must fall
                     They don't come by ones
            They got the manhood
            They got the courage
                     They don't come by twos
                  We got to slink around
                  Hangtailed hounds.
            They burn us when we dogs
            They burn us when we men
                     They come by tens . . .

            "I had a buddy
            Six foot of man
            Muscled up perfect
            Game to the heart
                     They don't come by ones
            Outworked and outfought
            Any man or two men
                     They don't come by twos
            He spoke out of turn
            At the commissary
            They gave him a day
            To git out the county
            He didn't take it.
            He said 'Come and get me.'
            They came and got him
                     And they came by tens.
            He stayed in the county—
            He lays there dead.

                     They don't come by ones
                     They don't come by twos
                     But they come by tens."


Sterling A. Brown, The Collected Poems of
Sterling A.Brown, ed. Michael S. Harper,
HarperCollins Publishers, 1980.